The Wager
by Voyagerfictionfan
Summary: Add on to Unimatrix Zero: Part Two


_A/N Paramout owns all._ _My attempt at an add on to the episode Unimatrix Zero: Part Two. Please R &R, you know you want to ;-)_

 _._

 **The Wager**

.

Standing just inside Sickbay, his feet planted evenly apart and his hands at his sides, Chakotay's gaze came first to rest on Tuvok who lay silently on the critical care biobed. Their mostly bald headed Doctor was hovering over him, running a complicated looking medical instrument slowly back and forth across his cranium.

Tuvok's dark lips were unusually pale and patches of the sinister blue-grey Borg mottle were clearly visible through the translucent skin stretched across his forehead. Ugly spikes of metal still protruded from his neck and his cheek, a souvenir of his time aboard the cube that would remain until he was stable enough to have them removed. Even unconscious, he looked about as traumatised as a Vulcan could. His brow slightly furrowed, his limbs curled subtly inwards to form a protective ball shell, the patterns of his neural pathways erratic, causing the monitors to alarm softly and the Doctor's frown to deepen every time he looked up at them.

The EMH had earlier informed him that their Security Chief had yet to regain consciousness, but had then reminded him that with care of the Delta Quadrant's foremost physician he was expecting him to make a full recovery, in due course. Chakotay had found the strength to smile a little and had allowed the Doctor to bask in his achievement for a while. Synthesising the weaponised virus along with an effective neural suppressant and then successfully removing the majority of the away team's Borg implants, he had done an exceptional job and there was no denying it. Modesty wasn't foremost in his programming, but his unique set of skills rather made up for that.

He walked over to stand at the foot of B'Elanna's bed as she slept with Tom sat vigil at her side and he was suddenly grateful to the Spirits and relieved beyond words that they had all made it back. He squeezed Tom's shoulder silently and Tom turned his head and smiled wearily at him in return. His haunted, slightly reddened eyes conveying what Chakotay understood, that by some miracle, they had survived another encounter with the Borg. Their plan had worked, this time, but he suspected that they had both feared that today was to be the day their luck would run out. Today would be day that they would lose people.

Sitting beside her empty chair on the Bridge, he had considered what it must have felt like, to be assimilated. From the initial sting of the tubules as they punctured warm skin to the surge of millions of nano-probes entering bloodstream, their sole purpose to transform you from the inside out. He hadn't been present in Transporter Room One when they had beamed the three of them back, but the memories of what he had seen after since coupled with the Doctor's chillingly realistic medical simulations had been more than enough to stop him sleeping at night.

Tuvok, B'Elanna and Kathryn had shared a unique experience he had realised, in willingly becoming part of the collective. The thought both disturbing yet fascinating in equal, especially since his experiences with Riley and the ex-drones. The anthropologist in him analysing the unlikely parallels between collective and culture. An image of Kathryn as a Borg drone, hideous fusions of metal and flesh flashed before his eyes; cybernetic eyepieces and tubules protruding from her seemingly vacant face. Suppressing it with an internal shudder, he headed towards her bed.

In her typical Janeway fashion he thought, somehow she looked to have come out of Borg assimilation the best of the three of them. The Captain sat in her teal sickbay robe, propped up by two pillows, looking from acasual glance as if she'd just woken from a nap. A Starfleet mug in one hand, the other holding a PADD and an expression of concentration crossing her face as she read. How she managed to look as if she'd never encountered the Borg, let alone just returned from inside a cube with more of their technology embedded in her flesh than he'd wanted to think about, he would never know. Her strength and stoicism amazed him, but then she never was one to let anything stand in her way.

As he drew closer though, he realised that even for her, looks could be deceiving. Her skin was almost ghostly pale and her eyes appeared slightly larger and more deeply sunken into her face. They were still bright, but bloodshot red. Areas of her face and neck bore the same blue-grey tint as Tuvok's, albeit to a lesser extent, and as he stood at the end of her bed momentarily unobserved, she brought her hand up absentmindedly to rub just above her eyebrow where the newly regenerated skin was still pink and patchy. He continued to watch as she tilted her neck and closed her eyes briefly, a look of such pure exhaustion crossing her face that his heart ached for her. A look that for just a second, told him of the unspoken trauma and strain of the mission.

She opened them slowly to see him and blinking at the light, smiled a tired version of her crooked smile at him. He smiled back, stepping closer and glancing at her hand, noticed for the first time that her knuckles were white with the effort of trying to keep the mug she was holding from shaking. It dipped dangerously as her arm trembled and reaching her side, he took the cup carefully and replaced it on the table.

He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in incredulity.

"Coffee? The Doctor gave you permission for coffee?"

She gave him a slightly sheepish look at and swallowed painfully before she spoke. Her voice had a rasping quality.

"Let's just say we came to an understanding. He's got more important things than my caffeine intake to worry about right now."

He watched her eyes turn to Tuvok's prone form and as she studied him, Chakotay saw her swallow again. She turned her face back towards his and he thought he saw a single tear slip from the corner of one eye. Casually, she lifted a finger to brush it away. He let his face relax a little as he pulled up a chair to sit beside her. Taking her hand in a gesture of silent reassurance, he gave it a gentle squeeze and held out his other hand for the PADD, a little surprised when she relinquished it without argument. He glanced down at the screen.

"Borg tactical data, Kathryn? You didn't have enough first hand experience?"

She rolled her eyes as he shook his head and placed it on the far side of the cabinet, deliberately out of her reach.

"I don't suppose you'd believe that I was catching up on a little light reading?"

He shook his head again as she yawned.

"Apparently Borg tactics do make a good bedtime story though."

The corners of her mouth rose a little as she ran her hand down the side of her face to the back of her neck. He stood and motioning for her to lean forward, placed his hand on her shoulder and removed a pillow. She flinched as she tried to get comfortable and muttered something about spinal clamps which made him feel a little nauseated. Her face contorted with pain as she shifted onto her side, but he could see that she was still in pain. He stopped her writhing by gently placing his hand on her arm.

"Will you allow me to help you Kathryn?"

She sighed and hesitated, but after a surreptitious look around the room, nodded, while trying to stifle another yawn. Carefully, he slid one arm around her slim shoulders and the other under her knees and gently eased her further down the bed. Watching her face constantly to determine if he was hurting her too much. As if she read his mind, she shook her head lightly, keeping her eyes locked to his, he was comforted by looking into their familiar blue depths. Once she was comfortable, she exhaled, her head lolling to one side.

"Better?"

She nodded, allowing her features to relax, her hand still holding his.

"Thank you Chakotay."

He was pulling the blanket up towards her chest as Tom wandered over.

"Tucking the Captain in, Commander?"

Chakotay watched as that comment earned Tom a classic Janeway look. Her eyes narrowed at his familiarity, but she was unable to keep the merest suggestion of colour from rising into her cheeks. He tried to keep the smile from his face. Paris had an uncanny knack of getting a little too close to the mark with those one-liners of his.

Enjoying her reaction, Tom simply grinned and held up a hypospray in Kathryn's eye line.

"For the discomfort and so that you get some rest. Doctor's orders."

It wasn't a question, and he didn't wait for her to respond, dispensing it promptly and eliciting a mild look of annoyance from her, which he also promptly ignored. Watching this, Chakotay was reminded of what an awkward patient she always was.

At that moment, the Doctor's face suddenly appeared over Tom's shoulder, his tone kind but firm.

"Visiting hours are nearly over Commander, my patient needs her rest. Although in this instance you are welcome to collect your dues from Mr Paris before you leave."

Hearing the EMH's words, Chakotay wondered if was his imagination or if the Doctor was smirking slightly. There was a subtle note of pleasure in his voice, almost as if Paris finally having to pay out was some form of well deserved justice.

It was Tom's turn to frown now as he reluctantly passed Chakotay a PADD.

He shook his head and narrowed his eyes slightly. "I still can't figure out how you knew Chakotay. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were psychic."

"A most illogical explanation as Mr Tuvok would no doubt comment, if he were awake." The Doctor interjected. "Exactly how the Commander won the wager is something to be discussed away from these four walls gentlemen."

He shot them both a pointed look, as he headed back into his office.

Sighing, his shoulders slightly slumped with defeat, Tom patted Kathryn's shoulder and headed back towards B'Elanna. Silent until now, the object of their wager chose to address him.

"You won a bet against Tom Chakotay?"

He smiled, deliberately flashing his dimples at her. "I did. It was made strictly off-duty though. Enough replicator rations to keep you in coffee for a week."

This peaked her interest and despite the effort it took, she raised her eyebrows sleepily.

"Mmmm. Just what or _whom_ did you wager on?"

Surprised at her insight, considering she didn't apparently have the ability to lift her head from the pillow, he considered carefully whether or not to answer this, before deciding to. Broadly speaking he didn't take part in Tom's various betting schemes and he had, on occasion had cause to put an end to the odd one or two. But the Captain had a surprisingly high tolerance for them.

As far as he knew she never participated, but she chose to turn a blind eye, possibly for the sake of crew moral or more likely he thought, because Tom was a favourite of hers. He stepped close, resting his hip lightly against her bed.

"I made a wager that you would come back from that cube..."

She turned her head upwards slightly and interrupted him.

"That's a 50:50 if you're a glass half full type of person, although decidedly less if you ask Tuvok..."

Her voice was raspy now, soft with sleep. He shook his head, resisting the urge to reach out and gently stroke her hair.

" _As I was saying_... I made a wager with Tom that you'd come back from that Cube with one unexplained injury, a small bruise on your left elbow that was not a result of your encounter with the Borg. The Doctor was kind enough to provide his medical expertise to verify the fact."

She furrowed her brow, her eyes almost closing and brought her hand up to finger the small blue-purple mark on her elbow.

Alright Chakotay I'll bite... although the aforementioned bruise is the very least of my worries. How did you...?"

He smiled a little, bringing her hand up to rest against his chest. Her arm heavy, she allowed him to take all of it's weight as he held it tightly. Held her tightly, as if he was never going to let her go.

"Because I know you Kathryn. And I know that old habits die hard."

Her brow furrowed further, but she was too close to sleep to do anything other than wait for his response. He leant down to her, his cheek almost touching hers, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I knew that they wouldn't be able to break you. That you would fight with all your strength to remain an individual, despite everything they did to you. And that standing in a narrow alcove on a Borg cube, you'd prove it by trying to put that hand of yours back on your damn hip."

He saw her mouth twist a little and then he was rewarded with the faintest trace of a smile crossing her lips. She squeezed his hand and sighed lightly as she fell asleep. He stroked her hair with his lightest touch, allowing his fingers to linger just a little.

"Welcome home Kathryn."


End file.
